


You Want It To Be One Way, But It's the Other Way

by PeriwinkleEyes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Barebacking, Bottom John, M/M, Sexual Angst, Sherlock Has Issues, Sherlock always tops, Top Sherlock, Top!lock, slightly dominant Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 16:26:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4794323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeriwinkleEyes/pseuds/PeriwinkleEyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If someone had said to John before he and Sherlock finally turned their relationship up to that noteworthy notch, better known as 'fucking,' that Sherlock would be the first to top, John would have given a thoughtful nod and said, "Yeah. Sounds about right."</p><p>If someone had told him that Sherlock would most often top, John would have narrowed his eyes for a second before giving a conceding expression and grunted, "Probably."</p><p>If someone had told him that Sherlock would <i>always</i> top, John would have tossed his head back with a hearty laugh, shaken his head and said, "Right. Sure, mate."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Want It To Be One Way, But It's the Other Way

**Author's Note:**

> This work has not been beta-read. I apologize for any mistakes, typographical, grammatical, or otherwise. This is my first fan-fiction. Please be kind.

Sherlock was exactly the man he told people he was. 

He had no qualms about sex. Not really. He'd done some experimenting when he was younger. Hated it. 

The only thing about sex he was afraid of nowadays was the expectation by others that he should want to partake in it. 

Men were so dull, so obvious, so boring. Sherlock could barely stand to be around them. How on earth was he supposed to imagine fucking them. Either they came on too strong and cocky in that clearly-over-compensating type of way, or they were the submissive non-argumentative types that Sherlock found just as infuriating. 

After all, where was the victory in making a submissive submit? 

 

When Sherlock first saw John Watson walk through the lab doors behind Mike, with his magnificent shoulders, fascinating psychosomatic limp and confident stance, something inside Sherlock choked. Clenched him tight. So tight he had to quickly look back to his microscope for fear of... He didn't even know at the time. It was so new. A gasping, grasping _tightness_. 

For the first time in a long time Sherlock Holmes didn't understand himself. It took only that first glance and a few casual words by the man himself and Sherlock had already sorted out all the important information about him. Yet there was something so deeper there. Something he was missing. It physically hurt him not knowing what it was. 

Eventually Sherlock figured it out. But by the time he did it was rather too late to do anything about it then and there. He'd have to wait for time to present another opportunity. 

And, of course, it did. 

 

John had Sherlock pressed up against a wall. They were kissing something fierce.

_Now._

Sherlock suddenly pushed back, hard, harder, until John took the hint and allowed himself to be maneuvered to the edge of the bed. Sherlock kept pressing until John fell backwards. After that, it took just a few heavy seconds and clever fingers and Sherlock had John all naked and glorious and perfect before him. And under him. 

And that was the thing, John was under him.

Sherlock blew out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Possibly had been holding for eleven months. 

John was gorgeous. What with his broader frame and short legs and attractive short hair, the grays adding to variety of browns in a distracting way. Sherlock let himself feel in deep, lovely awareness what he'd felt that day in the lab, what had taken him so long to figure out precisely. He wanted to _fuck_ John Watson.

It was such a profound statement, both in terms of sincerity and newness of feeling for Sherlock, saying it in his head wasn't enough. 

"I want to fuck you, John Watson." He began the sentence with his hand on the head of John's cock and carried the stroke downward until the act complimented the last word at the base where half his fingers had course pubic hair curling around them. 

John huffed out a laugh in that way he does that's both annoyance and acceptance. 

"Yeah. Alright. I figured." 

Sherlock attacked his mouth then. He loved when he got deductions right and the one he'd made long ago about John being okay with this was the most critical of his life. 

John pulled back to bark out. "You better have fucking lube. I mean real lube, too. If you don't then you can go to my room and --" 

Sherlock was already reaching back to his side table and pulling it out. 

John noticed that though the bottle was completely full, the safety tab had already been pulled off. 

_Christ. He had it prepared, didn't he. The arsehole knew this was going to happen, didn't he._

Before he could roll his eyes, however, Sherlock's wet hand was nudging at this thigh. John brought his leg up with a wince. 

Okay, it was time to lay some groundrules.

"You fucking better be careful, Sherlock. I haven't done this in a long time," John said, trying to be demanding when Sherlock's finger was exploring his anus. "And I expect foreplay." He grabbed hold of Sherlock's shoulder, trying to rouse the man's attention. "I'm serious, Sherlock, I enjoy oral so--" 

But Sherlock wasn't responding. He didn't even look like he was listening. Or, if he was, he didn't care, and the next thing John new he had Sherlock's finger inside of him. And then another joined it. And to be honest it _wasn't_ that gentle. John hissed. He wanted to kick Sherlock for being selfish like this, but instead he stroked himself as Sherlock prepared him. 

"Sherlock, come on now, ease up." 

But Sherlock looked lost, completely entranced by the sight of his fingers breeching John's body. So much so that his head had slowly brought itself closer to the action, and those lovely pink lips had parted in dangerous proximity to John's cock. It made John's dick go rock hard. Before he realized he was doing it, the hand around Sherlock's shoulder found itself buried in soft curls and pressing forward. 

Sherlock wrenched his head away almost immediately.

"Sherlock, just -- just a little head, that's all I'm asking for here."

Sherlock didn't say anything. Not a word. But he looked positively livid. He threw John's leg around his shoulder and pressed his cock inside of John.

"Fuck." John squawked as Sherlock pressed all the way inside in one smooth motion. 

Instead of apologizing to John, he simply growled, "I was enjoying myself. Don't ever do that again." 

And that was all the warning John got before Sherlock started fucking him. And when Sherlock came inside John's ass he pulled out. 

"Turn over." 

John, who was stroking himself and still angry as all get-out, complied. It was his own fault he reasoned. He should have known that Sherlock would have been pushy like this. He should have demanded upfront that they talk about certain sexual things that were and were not acceptable. But dammit, now he really wanted to come. And if Sherlock wasn't going to use his mouth then fine let him use his fingers. 

"Yes." Sherlock hissed in delight at the sight of the hard muscles of John's back rippling as he finger-fucked John's ass. It was if anything, almost better this way. "I should have fucked you like this. I think next time I will." 

Sherlock felt so powerful. Having another human being like this, it was amazing. Having John Watson like this, it was beyond anything he could have ever hoped for in his entire life. John, _his John_ came with a shout and Sherlock's brain interpreted it like victory bells ringing.


End file.
